


Give the Bard a Weapon

by JaskiersWolf



Series: Geraskier Prompts - For adults [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub Undertones, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Knifeplay, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Thirsty Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Weapons Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaskiersWolf/pseuds/JaskiersWolf
Summary: Three part story featuring Jaskier with a sword, dagger and bow, and Geralt having feelings. Each chapter can be read on their own or as part of a bigger story.Knifeplay features most heavily in chapter two so be warned?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Prompts - For adults [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181423
Comments: 34
Kudos: 236





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt was the protector. He was the witcher after all. He was the trained monster hunter and he created to kill. It was his role in the world and he’d made peace with that. So he protected Jaskier. He was the body guard even though he usually refused to take on such jobs, it wasn’t paid work so it didn’t count. He was protecting a… a friend. It was for this reason that he was always anxious to return to the path after wintering at Kaer Morhen. Even if they didn’t meet up during the year at least he would be able to hear news of his bard. He would know that Jaskier had survived the winter without Geralt there to protect him.

This year was no different. He journeyed to Oxenfurt first. He always did, even if they had no plans to meet if you wanted news of Jaskier then you travelled to Oxenfurt. The bard often made the city his home during winter. Geralt hated the noise of Oxenfurt but he went, every year, without fail. He grimaced as his senses were overwhelmed by the music and the chatter of the city. He could hear at least three different troupes playing songs in stands around the city and the scent of booze permeated the air but this was Jaskier’s home. So he continued along the streets until he found a tavern. He would be able to ask the barkeep for information about his bard. He frowned at he heard the noise of a fight inside the tavern, the unmistakable sound of steel clashing, followed by a familiar laugh.

“Fuck!” He hissed and threw open the door to the tavern, his hand already reaching over his shoulder for his sword.

He froze as he caught sight of Jaskier. His doublet was thrown over a nearby table and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was dancing, there was no better word for it, with a sword in his hand, bouncing from one foot to another as he teased his opponent. The tip of his blade was circling in the air as he cackled, blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

“Valdo, darling. You never learn.” Jaskier sang as he winked at the man opposite him.

Geralt’s mouth suddenly felt very dry and he swallowed. He’d never noticed the muscles of Jaskier’s forearms before, not like this. He licked his lips as Jaskier spun in a pirouette to avoid Valdo’s careless lunge. Even an amateur would have been able to avoid it but Jaskier was just showing off.

Jaskier.

Who stabbed himself with his dagger within minutes of Geralt handing it to him.

“Fuck.” Geralt repeated, his hand dropping to his side. He wouldn’t need his sword. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leant on the nearest pillar, watching the fight play out. He could always step in if he really had to, but fuck it he just wanted to watch.

Valdo fell forwards as Jaskier spun. The other man cursed loudly. He was getting angry and he was making mistakes, mistakes that Jaskier was using to his advantage. Valdo barely managed to stumble to his feet before Jaskier had attacked. He had his blade against Valdo’s throat in a flash.

“Apologise, Marx.” Jaskier hissed, pressing the blade against the bare skin of his opponent’s neck until blood trickled from the shallow wound.

Geralt had to bite his lip to stop a moan from escaping. Fuck, why was this so hot? He’d seen Jaskier bathing naked without losing his composure but the sight of his blade against another man’s neck, the muscles of his forearms covered in thick dark hair… It was almost too much for him.

“No.” Valdo hissed.

“You’ve lost.” Jaskier took a step back. His blade moving away from Valdo’s neck. Jaskier tilted his head and caught the tip of his sword underneath Valdo’s chin and Geralt’s could almost feel the oxygen being sucked from the room. He was on fire. The tavern was his own personal hell.

“I won’t apologise.”

Jaskier smirked and lifted Valdo’s chin with his sword. “You’ll regret that.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt growled, unable to resist anymore. Jaskier’s eyes flashed to him, burning with cool icy fire. “Enough.” He swallowed and shifted awkwardly, his trousers considerably tighter than they had been before he’d entered the tavern.

Jaskier’s eyes dropped. He’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed. Jaskier winked and then turned back to face Valdo, his blade caressing the man’s cheek. “Sorry darling. I have other business to attend to. Same time next year?”

“Fuck you.” Valdo spat.

Jaskier just laughed. “Oh you wish, love.” He sheathed his sword and practically skipped over to Geralt before wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck and kissing Geralt firmly on the lips. This time Geralt couldn’t contain his moan as Jaskier pressed up against him. He closed his eyes as Jaskier’s lips brushed against his cheek up to ear. Jaskier nipped at his earlobe and he inhaled sharply.

“Jaskier.” He breathed.

“Like what you see, witcher?” Jaskier whispered, his warm breath tickling Geralt’s ear.

“Hmm.”

“You know,” Jaskier purred as his hands moved down Geralt’s back and squeezed his arse in a way that really should have been illegal. “I’m rather good with a sword.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the knifeplay tag comes out. It doesn't get explicit but for those who would like to read some sexy times I'll link to the tumblr post at the bottom.

Geralt was out hunting. Not the monster kind though, thankfully, the dinner kind. Jaskier was starving! His stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling and if he wasn’t careful the noise would attract dinner, alive. He would really rather the dinner be dead by the time they reached camp. He held his hands against his stomach to try and stop the noise.

“Come on, Geralt.” He groaned.

He was bloody hungry and he was bored. He didn’t dare play the lute without Geralt and his swords around to keep the monsters at bay. He needed a distraction and fast. He chewed on his bottom lip as he looked around the camp. Roach was grazing nearby and he glared at her. Oh to be a horse. You didn’t need to wait for Geralt to catch dinner if you were a horse. You could just munch happily on the nearest patch of succulent grass and the beautiful bard would give you treats.

Fuck it. How was he jealous of a horse?

His stomach rumbled again and he moaned. He was going to die of starvation before Geralt returned. He was going to wither away to nothing. He pouted and slumped dramatically back onto one of the logs around the campfire, sighing loudly. What else was a bard supposed to do?

His fingers flexed against his thighs. He couldn’t play. He’d run out of ink to write. Gods he was going to go mad! He needed to do something to pass the time. He licked his lips, the skin was starting to chap from where he kept chewing at them. He frowned. Something to do. A thought struck him.

He could whittle!

He jumped up and strutted over to Roach, giving her a fond scratch behind the ears before digging through the bags to find his dagger. Geralt had given it to him the previous year before heading off to the old witchers’ keep.

The dagger was beautiful. Jaskier didn’t know a lot about daggers but it was clearly not cheap. Geralt had forked out a lot of coin for it and Jaskier’s heart fluttered every time he thought about it. There was a part of him that wondered whether it was the witcher’s way of courting him. They’d been casual lovers for a while now, but Jaskier longed for more. He wanted to give Geralt his whole heart without fear. His fingers trailed along flat of the blade. It was razor sharp and lethal in the right hands. He poked the tip gently and a bead of blood immediately appeared. He hissed and stuck the wounded finger in his mouth.

Lethal in the wrong hands too.

But it was perfect for what he wanted.

He scavenged around the campsite for a suitable piece of wood, grinning with delight when he found one, and then settled back onto his log. He stuck his tongue between his lips as began to carve out the wood. He lost track of time as he worked, focussing hard on getting the shape of Roach’s body just right. He didn’t hear Geralt approach and he didn’t notice how long Geralt was standing there just staring at him. He was so focussed on Roach’s tiny little ears that Geralt’s voice breaking the silence startled him and he almost dropped the dagger on his foot.

“What are you doing?”

“Shit! Fuck. Balls!” Jaskier cursed, barely managing to keep hold of the hilt of his blade. He glared fiercely at Geralt and pointed the dagger at the witcher’s face. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Geralt didn’t respond. He was staring at the dagger in Jaskier’s hand as if it had some sort of bewitching spell enchanted into the blade. Jaskier raised an eyebrow at Geralt and slowly got to his feet, keeping the blade aimed at his lover. Geralt’s cheeks were dusted in a gorgeous pink blush. Jaskier chuckled and licked his lips as he tilted his head.

“How was hunting?” He asked nonchalantly as he moved into Geralt’s space.

“Hmm…” Geralt replied still not taking his eyes off the blade.

Jaskier answered with his own hum and drew the flat of the blade against Geralt’s cheek. Geralt closed his eyes and Jaskier heard the hitch in his breathing. Oh ho ho! He was going to have fun with this! Internally he was buzzing with energy but he kept his composure as best he could and moved the dagger carefully down Geralt’s face until it rested under his chin.

“Look at me, Geralt.” He whispered, his voice hoarse. Geralt let out a soft moan but his eyes fluttered open as Jaskier pushed his chin up with the dagger. Jaskier tilted his head and pulled the dagger away but not lowering it. “Do you trust me?”

Geralt nodded but Jaskier raised an eyebrow. He needed words for this, it was too much without words. “Yes.” Geralt’s voice cracked.

Jaskier pressed the blade against Geralt’s throat and his lips ghosted over Geralt’s in a faint kiss. “Be good for me.” He murmured. “And trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smutty end to this part was written by the ever lovely Bouncey on tumblr. This part is explicit. Be warned. [read it here](https://bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher.tumblr.com/post/632812390134808576/point-me-in-the-right-direction).
> 
> Alternatively I'm on tumblr [here](https://jaskierswolf.tumblr.com/).
> 
> \- Wolfie


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written a couple of other ficlets on [tumblr](https://jaskierswolf.tumblr.com/post/632987294696144896/competent-jaskier-masterlist-updated-251020) that sort of relate. Mostly featuring daggers because apparently I'm into that??? So if you enjoyed this... maybe check them out! 
> 
> This one is Jaskier with a crossbow! Minor Dom/Sub elements.
> 
> Enjoy!

The hunt wasn’t going well. Geralt was surrounded by drowners and Roach had fled to safety leaving Jaskier helpless without a weapon. Jaskier looked around frantically for anything he could use to assist Geralt but there was nothing but boggy marshes and more drowners. There was a flash as Geralt blasted the drowners with Igni but it wasn’t enough. Jaskier had to do something.

“Geralt!” He yelled and waved his arms high in the air as he ran towards the fight.

“Shut up!” Geralt shouted as he spun round to decapitate another drowner.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and then yelped as he ducked to avoid flying bits of drowner. “Geralt, throw me the crossbow!”

Geralt fixed him with a steely glare before swearing and throwing the drowners back with Aard. It bought them a few precious seconds and Geralt tossed over his bow and a handful of bolts. Jaskier almost dropped the bolts as he scrambled to catch everything but he just about managed to stop them from falling into the water and just in time. The drowners had recovered and were lunging at Geralt once more. Jaskier didn’t waste anymore time. He stuck his tongue between his lips as he loaded the bolt into the crossbow and took aim.

It had been a while since he’d used a crossbow. He was far more proficient with a longbow but Geralt didn’t carry one so he had to make do. He took a deep breath and fired. The bolt flew from the bow and struck the drowner he’d been aiming for in the neck. It dropped almost instantly. He grinned and loaded another bolt. Geralt spun round to face him as he noticed the pack of drowners thinning out faster than he was killing them. His eyes were black and his skin was pale but to the gods he still looked gorgeous.

Jaskier might have been biased but he stood by his opinion and would not hesitate to draw his dagger against anyone who suggested otherwise, although that last bit was partly for Geralt’s benefit. He winked at the witcher and aimed at the drowner just behind Geralt’s shoulder. The bolt flew past Geralt’s head and into the lurking drowner. “Stop gawking and fight, witcher!” Jaskier ordered, loading another bolt.

Geralt’s jaw snapped shut and he flung round with his silver sword raised, the sunlight glittering off the blood on the blade. They made short work of the the rest of the drowners. Jaskier killed his fair share with the bow and Geralt was splattered with drowner guts by the time the fight was done. The witcher dropped a bomb in the nest and it was over.

Jaskier let out a sigh of relief and scratch his head with the bolt in his hand. Geralt was panting heavily in the middle of the corpses, looking a little lost now that it was finished. His body was still high on potions and toxicity. He’d been pretty useless to the world now until he’d rested. Jaskier carefully walked over to Geralt and cupped his cheek.

“Hey?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

Geralt leaned into his touch and there was a soft rumbling noise from his chest. “You can use a bow.” He mumbled, the words beginning to slur.

Jaskier nodded and gently guided Geralt away from the battlefield, his arm wrapped around his witcher’s waist. “I was taught before I went to Oxenfurt.”

“Hmm. Suits you.”

“I’m better with a longbow.” Jaskier hummed thoughtfully.

Once they were away from the bogs and safely back on solid ground Jaskier pulled them to a stop. Geralt snarled at the sudden change of pace but Jaskier just bopped him on the nose with a bolt. Geralt frowned but didn’t protest any further. Jaskier began to sing gently under his breath as he guided Geralt to his knees in front of him and threaded a hand into Geralt’s hair.

“You almost died out there, Geralt.” Jaskier murmured gently. “Getting distracted by your bard using your crossbow?”

Geralt let out a low growl. “You fucking winked at me.” He muttered. “And then nearly blew my head off.”

“My aim, my darling, was perfect.” Jaskier stroked the crossbow bolt along Geralt’s cheek.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier let out a peal of laughter and tugged gently at Geralt’s hair to make the witcher look up at him. His skin was still deathly pale and his veins were a dark web across his skin. Anyone else would think he was the monster and yet here he was kneeling at Jaskier’s feet, pretty as a picture. “A thank you wouldn’t go amiss, Geralt.”

Geralt hummed again but mumbled his thanks. Jaskier smiled down at Geralt and continued to run his hands through Geralt’s long hair until golden flecks returned to his eyes and the black lines faded from view. The witcher purred under his touch as he settled into a meditative state. Jaskier sighed and whistled for Roach. He left Geralt’s side just long enough to pack the swords and bow onto the horse’s saddle before scooping Geralt up into his arms. Geralt recognised his touch and scent enough by now to not get disturbed when Jaskier moved him. His witcher needed to sleep off the potions and he wasn’t going to do that on the side of the road. So Jaskier would carry them both to safety. He always would.


End file.
